Words left unsaid
by dmccabe569
Summary: The epic final battle. Voldemort takes the one thing Harry could'nt bear to lose, Ginny. Filled with rage Harry uses the one spell he thought he would never use...


Words Left Unsaid

'Where did I go wrong?'

He wrapped his arms around himself and began to rock back and forth as old memories began to resurface. Coming up from the murky depths of his mind, once suppressed, now untethered and free.

Faces. So many faces. So many days, moments.

The man suddenly sat up straight. His back tense, the hood that once covered his face now slid slowly down. The wind ruffling his now uncovered, already unruly, hair. His now dull green eyes glazed over, a vacant expression upon his face. His mind gone on a long awaited trip down Memory Lane.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A young boy walked down a hill side as the battle between good and evil raged around him, spells flying through the air, when suddenly a piercing scream pierced the air. The boy broke into a run, his wand at the ready.

He stopped at the foot of the hill and what a sight met his eyes.

There were many more hooded figures around, dueling members of the Order, flashes of coloured light were everywhere, illuminating the dark sky.

His eyes passed over this, searching for the source of the scream. He heard it again and took off running in the direction of the agonizing screams.

He then saw who the screams were coming from. A beautiful red head was writhing on the ground as a man, tall, thin, and monster-like, stood over her. Lord Voldemort. He turned and grinned vindictively at the boy who had just arrived.

The boy ran faster. He had to get there and tell her. Before anything happened. He had to tell her the truth. That he loved her with all his heart. And that he had been wrong.

Voldemort hissed, All the pain you have caused me, boy. I now give back to you.

The boy's eyes widened as he continued running. He had to get there. Had to tell her.

The man who was once Tom Riddle raised his wand, pointed it at the girl and whispered the fated words. Avada Kedavra.  
>A jet of green light sped towards the girl. The boy ran faster, but he was too late.<p>

He sank to the ground, the life had been snuffed out of her. Upon her beautiful face was a look of shock.

He slammed his fist onto the ground, and it was his turn to scream. A scream of pure rage and the pain of lost love.

He got up and whipped around, pointing his wand at Voldemort, and the duel began. Spells were exchanged, others were maimed, scratches received, and dust kicked up.

The pent up rage was all coming out now, the want of revenge finally surfacing. In his anger, the boy yelled the words he never thought he would, lowering himself to the level of his enemy. Avada Kedavra

Voldemort flew back and fell to the ground lifeless. Killed by the thing he sorely underestimated, scoffed at: Love.

The boy sank to the ground crying. He crawled over to his love's corpse, whispering to himself, to her, the now useless truth he had kept to himself, hidden all these years.

"I love you, Ginny. I love you."

But the truth fell upon his love's deaf ears. His tears did not alleviate the guilt and painful anguish he felt, they only served to soak Ginny's fiery red hair. And he knew inside, even though he never gave voice to those thoughts, that though the Wizarding World had won, he himself had lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~  
>Harry sat despondently on his lonely rock, still listening to the crashing waves and the gulls' call. He was lonely, ever so lonely. And still ridden with guilt, his heart not letting him forget his past mistake of shutting out his one love. He had long left his friends to live in solitude near the coast. His house now sat over looking the lonely beach, just as empty as his heart.<p>

Near his house was a large tree, in whose branches sat a tree house. It was a special tree house. He had labored on it for days on end, months, until he was satisfied with the completed building. He remembered the day she had told him of her want of a tree house. It had been after the Quidditch match, all the Gryffindors were celebrating and the Slytherins were deep in their dungeons fuming.

Harry and Ginny sat near the lake under a tree talking, when Ginny looked up into the tree's massive branches and said, "Oh, Harry. What would it be like to live in a tree?"

He stared at her pensively. "I wouldn't know, Gin."

She looked back at him. "I always wished I had a tree house. Somewhere just for me, away from my brothers. Somewhere outside. It would be lovely, don't you think, Harry?"

He had laughed at her that day, laughed at her childish fantasy. But now, when she was gone, he had clung to every memory, every piece of her that he could and lived on it. And so he built that tree house. He spent most of his time in it. For inside it, was everything that reminded him of her. Her things, her pictures, her memory.

He knew she would want him to move on. Move on and live a happy life, the life he'd never had. But he knew he couldn't. He had to tell her, still. Somehow. Someway.

It was the anniversary of the day good triumphed over evil. Yet the boy, the saviour of the Wizarding World, their hero, took no part in the festivities. He chose instead to sit upon his lonely rock overlooking the ocean in front of his house, remembering times gone by.

He sat still and silent as he heard the far off laughter and gaiety of people rejoicing. He sat still and silent as he watched the sun go down, his life going with it.

They found his body the next day, Ron and Hermione did. A look of peace gracing his face.  
>People talked about him, and still do. The poor boy. So young. What he had to go through, only understandable. Oh, the poor thing.<p>

But he could care less. He watched them from above, an arm around his love, a smile on his face for the first time in a long while. He turned and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Ginny."

She smiled up at him. "I know."

He watched as they put up a plaque in his honor, a tomb for his body, and a museum for his memory.

'In honour and loving memory of Harry Potter. Wonderful son, true friend, and saviour of the Wizarding world. May we never forget him.'

And he smiled again. For he was truly happy.


End file.
